


Rise Up

by fmpwolf462



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Codywan Week, Codywan Week 2020, Everyone Needs A Hug, Everyone Needs Therapy, F/F, F/M, Fix-it fic, Gen, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Graphic Description, Hurt/Comfort, Jedi Positive Fic, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Minor Character Death, Physical Disability, Self-Esteem Issues, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) Spoilers, canon divergence - star wars the clone wars, codywan - Freeform, day 2 fix-it, minor original characters, temporary major character death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:40:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25583017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fmpwolf462/pseuds/fmpwolf462
Summary: Commander Cody wished he hadn’t seen what Skywalker and Tano pulled out of the pile of rubble. The carnage, the sheer amount of blood, it never got easy seeing it, but this time, it wasn’t a brother. It was Obi-Wan, crumpled and limp and broken.Please read the tags. I’ve changed the order and deleted some that I thought were redundant. Let me know if you think I need to add any.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, CC-2224 | Cody & CT-7567 | Rex, CC-2224 | Cody & Obi-Wan Kenobi, CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, CT-7567 | Rex & Ahsoka Tano, CT-7567 | Rex & Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Past Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze - Relationship
Comments: 51
Kudos: 271
Collections: Codywan Week





	1. Loss

**Author's Note:**

> Did you read the tags first? Please do.
> 
> I'm going to attempt to update this every two weeks.

||TW: blood, graphic description of injuries, self deprecation, grief

Commander Cody wished he hadn’t seen what Skywalker and Tano pulled out of the pile of rubble. The carnage, the sheer amount of blood, it never got easy seeing it, but this time, it wasn’t a brother. It was Obi-Wan, crumpled and limp and broken, his legs completely destroyed beneath the weight. The visible sinew and bone nearly made him sick, despite having seen the same or worse before. He had nearly escaped the falling duracrete. His head and arms were miraculously still intact, through the doorway of what used to be a room. Vaguely, he registered someone yelling, maybe even crying, but he couldn’t take his eyes away from auburn hair matted stiff with blood. His shut eyes, hiding a beautiful ocean of color that Cody would never get to see again.

“Vod,” Rex stepped up behind him carefully, as if he was afraid of startling him. He placed a firm, steadying hand on the back of his brother’s neck. “Cody, I need you to look at me.”

Cody forced himself to, if only to ease Rex’s mind. Rex searched his eyes for a minute, but seemed disappointed with whatever he found.

“We need to go.”

Cody turned sharply and all but marched back to the ship. He didn’t look back.

***

Cody was honestly unsure how Rex managed to get everyone and everything back to their respective battle cruisers. Obi-Wan hadn’t been taken back to the Negotiator. Skywalker made sure of that. The man had been acting like a walking landmine, pacing divots into the floor and daring anyone with steel eyes to challenge him, to come near Obi-Wan. Cody couldn’t bring himself to confront him. Obi-Wan was Skywalker’s master, after all. The closest thing he had had to a brother. They meant more to each other than Cody ever would, and he understood.

The clone commander kept his shoulders forward and his stance strong. He needed to be, for his brothers, that were going through losing their General _again_ . The whole Rako Hardeen mess had been hard enough on them, what with being ordered out on a mission and coming back to learn of the General’s death. Seeing him again had been such a blessing that Cody’s seething rage about being ordered away had taken a back-seat for a while. After losing his General to that _kriffed_ up mission of the council’s, Cody nearly broke completely. He was determined that that wouldn’t happen again, no matter what.

Even with the near-unbreaking will he had, his hands trembled behind his back. Standing at rest, Cody was glad his bucket covered his face, since he couldn’t seem to keep his emotions in check. He should have been there. He should have been there with his men and with his General, where he belonged. He squeezed his fists tighter, and tried to ground himself by the feel of how his gloved fingers pushed into his palm. Stars, he had never felt so powerless.

Obi-Wan was gone now, and he had gone without him. He had gone and Cody had seen the body. He had seen what was left of the body, the gruesome bits of flesh and blood splattered across broken duracrete, and the shattered bone and cracked ribs underneath. He had wanted to scream, and like Skywalker, let his emotions consume him. He had wanted to completely _fight_ Skywalker when he ordered _their_ General’s remains to the _Resolute_. General Kenobi _belonged_ with the 212th battalion. He was _their_ General, _their_ leader, and most of all he was _their_ friend. He was _Cody’s_ friend. Kenobi was _Cody’s_ _alor_. Kenobi had been _Cody’s_ light.

The nat-born Admiral of the _Negotiator_ strolled onto the bridge, whistling, seemingly unaffected by the heavy atmosphere of all the clone troopers in the room. Cody could feel his fury rising up from his stomach and spilling into his chest. He had never felt such a desire to cause physical harm to someone as he did in that moment. Barring General Grievous, his dire want to punch the man was unrivaled.

After the man passed him, Cody snapped, “Permission to be dismissed, _sir_.” He spit out the last word like venom, almost hoping it had the same effect as the substance.

The nat-born looked to him, flicking his beady eyes over Cody’s bucket as if to measure him up. The man had been on board a few cycles now, but not enough to warrant his respect. Cody would rather have had a shiny in control of the damn ship. His whole body tensed despite doing his best to be stone still.

The Admiral nodded, and Cody about-faced immediately and marched out. He didn’t acknowledge any other trooper in the hall, simply made a beeline for his destination on the training deck. He had to beat the shit out of something, and another officer wouldn’t do. His anger was boiling up and all but bursting out when he finally set up some dummy droids.

When his knuckles hit metal, it made him even angrier. He knocked the first one down, but he was going to knock the head clean off the next one. Sparks sputtered out of its neck joint as the droid went down and a small part of Cody felt satisfied.

He ran his body ragged. He had kept his armor on, but his hands were busted to all hell. The pain felt as red hot as his emotions from before and he didn’t mind it. He didn’t mind the blood in his gloves, or the dented plate of his left gauntlet. The ‘fresher burned his raw skin, and the more physical pain he felt, the more he thought of General Kenobi, and the physical pain he must have endured. General Kenobi- _Obi-Wan’s_ pain had to have been ten times as much as his own, if not more.

Cody thought of the pain, the suffering, and the severe ache that latched to the bottom of his soul and continued to pull downward, seemingly never-ending. And then he thought of how Obi-Wan must have felt in his last few moments. How he felt knowing he was going to die, knowing he would take his last breath on that damnable planet, alone, and in pieces.

Cody wanted it to burn. He wanted the planet to burn for what it did to Obi-Wan, and he wanted it to burn as hot as the pain twisting up his gut. 

He hit his fist against the wall of the small ‘fresher and clenched his teeth.

Obi-Wan would never want that. Obi-Wan would want him to live on, to continue to save lives, not end them. Obi-Wan cared about all sentients, all life forms. He cared about them, the troopers, every single one of them, and he never saw his life as more than one of theirs. Cody’s forehead hit the wall as he screamed silently, his jaw open and his throat closed. He couldn’t make a sound until the tears broke from his eyes. Then, he was sobbing, digging his injured fingers into the wall as if it would help keep him centered.

He had promised himself he would never break again.

How could the Force decide it was his time? He didn’t understand _osik_ about the Force, but the Force had to favor Obi-Wan with the number of times he had made it out of hellish situations unscathed. The man had been practically unkillable, until now. Until Cody saw what was left of his body. Until Cody saw he was unmoving and cold, trapped to the ground by massive pieces of duracrete. How had no one prevented it? Why had no one saved him? It was always Obi-Wan that the universe saw fit to chew up and spit out over and over again, then slap in the face and refuse to give justice or retribution of any kind for his suffering.

Obi-Wan had never deserved the injuries the galaxy saw fit to exact on him. He never would.

Cody left the ‘fresher feeling worse than when he had gone in. His head hurt from all the thoughts swirling around and ricocheting back like a tornado tearing objects from the ground. He slumped into his bunk and dropped his head into his hands. He was born and bred to die for the Republic and now that he was facing death, he was weak. He had cracked at the seams and been torn apart by the loss of one man, torn apart by the loss of soft smiles and light footsteps and compassionate leadership and blue eyes and smart remarks and wry humor-

There was so much that Cody lost in one instant that he got angry for his lost brothers. Cody berated himself for not breaking over so many dead brothers, but instead, over his General. His brothers that were marching far away, what would they think of him? Did he feel the General’s life was more than theirs? More than his own brothers? What kind of _karked_ up _ori’vod_ was he if that was the truth? He didn’t deserve to be their _al’verde_. Not anymore.

He felt he didn’t deserve any of the titles he had been given. Especially not the ones from Obi-Wan. A commander that couldn’t protect his men and his commanding officer wasn’t any kind of commander he ever wanted to be. And yet he was here, having lost countless brothers and now his General. Cody laid down, but he didn’t rest. He watched the metal of the wall and listened to the sound of hyperspace until it deafened him. He felt minutely better when he couldn’t hear himself crying anymore. The Commander of the 212th battalion and nearly half of the GAR didn’t cry. He didn’t falter or break. That man pushed through the hardest obstacles and challenges and got the very best out of his men and accepted nothing less.

Cody did not feel like that man anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> vod-brother  
> kriff-vaguely translates to fuck  
> alor-leader/boss/chief  
> osik-shit  
> ori'vod-older brother  
> al'verde-commander


	2. Ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this early so I’m posting it. No beta. Thank you all for the kudos and comments!
> 
> ||TW: blood, vomiting(briefly in the last paragraph), self deprecation, Obi-Wan has no self care/self preservation

“Obi-Wan, what are you thinking about?” Qui-Gon hummed, raising a brow as he watched his padawan. He was harder to read with the beard, and his ex-master wondered absently if that was why he had grown it out. He also noted how his face was aged at least a decade older from the trauma of war. He was no longer the bright young man Qui-Gon remembered, but a hardened veteran who had lost more than he even thought possible for one man.

When Obi-Wan finally looked at him, his eyes were as expressive as he remembered.

With a slight smirk, Obi-Wan leaned back in his seat and sipped his tea, then said, “Do you recall the time on Naboo that you got caught by a swamp slug and dragged around by your hair for hours?”

The older master rolled his eyes, but answered him with a fond smile, “Yes, unfortunately I do remember that.”

“It took me years before I realized that you did it on purpose.”

“Really?” Qui-Gon mused, “I didn’t think you’d ever notice.”

Obi-Wan held his tea in his lap, expression soft and calm. Despite his war torn atmosphere, Qui-Gon had never seen him this peaceful. Little gods, he hoped that would last.

“You did it to distract us. To make us laugh. And it worked,” he smiled fondly, “I only hope that I managed to be that selfless in my life. To bring healing and joy to others, even if it cost me.”

Qui-Gon stiffened in his seat, honestly wondering if he was the one who taught his padawan that many years ago. It most definitely started with him, so it would have to be him to correct it. “Obi-Wan, despite my past actions, that is not-“

With a sigh, Obi-Wan interrupted him, “Before my death, I think I finally understood that that had been my purpose.”

“No.”

Obi-Wan looked up from his lap to meet his ex-master’s eyes. They were hardset and determined; a complete no-nonsense look. “I’m sorry, what do you mean ‘no’?”

“You have no need to apologize to me. I wish I had helped you see that you never need to apologize for your own existence. Second,” Qui-Gon sighed, “You did suffer. You have suffered. From my hands, Anakin’s, the council’s- you also make yourself suffer for things you had no hand in. Obi-Wan, you have hurt so much for so long, but suffering is not your purpose. That’s partly the reason you aren’t actually dead.”

“How else could we be having this conversation?”

“The Force works in mysterious ways, doesn’t it?” He smirked, knowing it would pull forth that indignant expression of Obi-Wan’s. “I may be dead, but the Living Force around you suggests that you are not. At least not completely.” 

After a short silence, he continued, “I believe your life’s task isn’t quite finished, Padawan of mine. Well. Ex-padawan, excuse me, it appears even death doesn’t save you from old habits.”

Obi-Wan shook his head and smiled anyway. His old master returned it.

“I will see you again someday. Today, your friends and family still need you. And you still need them. Good luck, Obi-Wan, and May the Force be with you.”

Before Obi-Wan could reply, he blinked, and when his eyes opened again, the whole scene was different. His eyes stung but he quickly understood that he was in a bacta tank. One of his favorite places. The complete flip of script jarred him enough to make the next several minutes feel like an out of body experience.

He could feel Force signatures outside buzzing around, most likely due to his sudden consciousness. Hands reached for him, slowly extricating his body from the tank. Most likely the sedatives in his system were what was keeping him calm enough not to focus much on the bacta in his nose and throat and eyes. Thankfully, the hands felt warm against his skin, and the people surrounding him shielded him from the harsh light of the med bay. 

Finally, he was able to breath once the mask and tube were taken off his face. He didn’t try to move, or to do anything other than breathe for a minute. He was alive, somehow.

“General?” 

He started to turn towards the voice and immediately changed his mind when all his muscles seemed to heave and scream at the movement. The pain seemed dull, as if he couldn’t feel his extremities. Perhaps his blood flow was just getting back to normal after being submerged for who knows how long.

Obi-Wan coughed, and a hand stilled him. When he could speak, his throat felt sore and dry, possibly from disuse. “Kix?”

“Yes sir,” the medic responded, keeping his tone even, “How are you feeling?”

The Jedi started to speak again but was interrupted by a coughing fit. His vision was blurry but he was pretty sure Kix was bringing him water. Kix put a hand to his chest to keep him from trying to sit up, and brought the pouch to his lips. In a rush, he realized how thirsty he was, and tried to guzzle down the whole packet. Kix took it before he could do so, setting it aside.

“How long was I in that tank?” Obi-Wan nearly cringed at his own voice for how scratchy it sounded.

“About a standard month, sir.”

Obi-Wan paled even more than he already was(if that was even possible, considering his current state). He was out of commission for seven ten-days? Anything could have happened in that time. Were Anakin and Ahsoka alright? What had the council been doing? What about his men? Commander Cody? How was the war progressing? What if his men didn’t make it off that planet and that’s why he was with the 501st medic?

“Whatever you’re thinking about, cut it out. You’re raising your blood pressure, sir,” Kix droned, clearly extremely tired. Obi-Wan wondered if he could order him to take a day off. Though perhaps, that would be too ironic. Kix continued, “General Skywalker and Commander Tano should be here soon. I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to see that you’re awake.”

“We’re-“ Obi-Wan‘s voice had reduced in volume to barely a whisper, “-on the Resolute?”

Kix paused what he was doing to turn and face the Jedi. He spoke calmly, despite the content of his words, “Originally, we were returning your body to Coruscant. General Skywalker ordered you to be placed in bacta, despite there being no detectable life signs. When we reached Coruscant, they sent a Jedi medic to see you. The Jedi detected some form of consciousness from you, and after contacting the council, it was decided that the tank was not to be moved under any circumstances.” Kix sighed deeply and ran his hands over his face. “We didn’t expect you to come out of that. The Jedi did. Now, I need to contact the council, I’ll return shortly.”

Obi-Wan nodded, quietly resigned to his fate. He had more questions after Kix spoke, but he didn’t have a voice to ask them. They would have to wait, and he would need to be patient. He shut his eyes and simply focused on breathing. 

The Jedi fell into a light doze, and only awoke when the door to the med bay slid open. Standing there was Anakin, and behind him, Ahsoka. He smiled, immediately putting up a front that everything was alright and he was well. He didn’t feel well, but he could fake it for them, he always would.

“Master,” Anakin breathed, before rushing to the side of the cot. He reached for Obi-Wan’s hand, but retracted it a moment later. “I thought- I thought I’d lost you.”

As much as Obi-Wan wanted to reassure him, the pain in his head was increasing exponentially with each second. He tried rubbing at his temples, but it did no good when he felt like his whole head was splitting open. He clenched his jaw, trying to persevere.

Anakin looked around the room, and yelled to the first medic he saw. Obi-Wan barely registered the movement.

Then, the intense pain broke something in him. It was raw and demanding and seemingly unending, swirling around in his skull and suffocating him at the same time.

Obi-Wan couldn’t breathe, he was choking, with his guts twisting inside in ways they shouldn’t be able to. He rapped his head back against the cot in a futile attempt to anchor himself. Someone was talking to him but he couldn’t hear them. Kix had returned, most likely to sedate him again.

The harsh pain he felt was mounting so quickly that he didn’t fight it. He vaguely registered something being pricked into his neck. His stomach decided that was the time to react to everything, and Obi-Wan wrenched himself to the side. He was so out of it that he didn’t register how long he was dry heaving, but afterwards, there was definitely blood. A lot of it. 

If they weren’t already, Anakin and Ahsoka were surely scarred for life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m still working on the next two to three chapters and sorting things out, sorry! I do hope to update by the end of this week(Sept. 5th)


	3. Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been longer than I hoped since the last update but I’ve been fighting the plot and my own motivation. I’ll try again to update every two weeks. Un-beta-ed.
> 
> Obi-Wan is an unreliable narrator.  
> TW: death, panic attack, motor skills loss

When Obi-Wan stirred from his medically induced nap, he found his body feeling exceptionally weak. As much as he wanted to sit up, he couldn’t move, so he settled to simply let his eyes wander about the room. His vision seemed foggy at best, with all the edges of objects blurred and fuzzy. He shut his worn eyes and focused on the Force instead.

He couldn’t properly move but he didn’t need to to slip into a light meditative state. First, he reached for his emotions. The fear that was trapped in his chest seemed to shift about erratically, as if to keep him guessing on its true goal or purpose. He was afraid for what all he had missed during his incapacitation, and how it would affect the future. He feared for his fellow Jedi, for his friends and family. He feared for his men in the 212th and the whole of the GAR. He feared for the citizens of the Republic. With a deep breath, he focused on his fears. He did not try to contain them. He let all the fear flow through him like a river, frigid and harsh in his veins. He recognized the power of fear and how it would completely drown him if he allowed it. 

“There is no emotion. There is peace.”

Obi-Wan centered himself and directed the fear out and into the Force. He would not allow the fear to direct him. For a moment, he could breathe easy.

Unfortunately, the moment was cut into a millisecond when he immediately started coughing. Instinctively, he jerked his arm up to cover his mouth. The pain from the movement tore through him like Force lightning and caused him to lose his breath. When he reached to steady himself on the cot, he found no strength in his fingers at all. His hand slipped on the cold metal bar he had tried to grab and then he was falling to that side. He had to catch himself, Kix would never forgive him if he undid all that work with a simple fall.

Obi-Wan tried to kick his legs out in a last ditch attempt to stop his body from hitting the floor, only to find that he couldn’t feel them at all.

He smacked into the ground shoulder first and heard it crack. Despite that, the Jedi master was more concerned with the fact that he couldn’t control his legs. His other pains seemed minute as he shifted his torso only to find that there were no legs to support him. He stared down his own body as if seeing it for the first time, eyes catching on what was left of his thighs. They could barely pass as stumps. He couldn’t right himself in his shock, so he settled to reach a hand down and feel. Less than half of his thighs remained where his legs used to be. His breath caught in his throat as he found that truly, that was all that was left.

His fingers shook when they caught against the bottom part of his bandaging. He hadn’t even realized when he woke up before that a third of his body was missing. Touching the fabric wrapped around what was left of each appendage had thoughts racing through his mind like a dry brush fire. 

One of those thoughts caught and plastered itself to the forefront of his mind.

_I can’t protect anyone anymore._

His blood ran cold. His breathing sped up. He couldn’t feel the Force.

As Obi-Wan’s throat closed up and his chest ached from lack of oxygen, he couldn’t help but wonder why he was even alive. He broke out in a sweat even as the floor turned to ice beneath him. Nails scraped against the slick ground and then those same nails were at his neck, burning hot and numb at the same time. His vision blurred and he shivered, almost violently, even as countless hands came down on him. A prick here, a light in his eye there, muffled, gargled voices, and finally, silence. 

The silence wasn’t peaceful. The silence was deafening. The silence was his fear, roiling under the surface and threatening to destroy him. Vicious and prowling, like a predator waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Obi-Wan felt no reason to stop it from consuming him.

When his consciousness slipped, he dreamed for the first time in months. He dreamt of a battlefield, ghostly figures wading across it and lights flashing by his head. Obi-Wan snorted to himself, wondering how concussed he had to be to misinterpret a scene he knew all too well. Broken droids, shattered machines, and limp bodies. Men who laid down their lives and would never get back up again. The smell of blood and burned flesh was overwhelming and unmistakable.

They were winning, but at what cost?

Obi-Wan snarled and charged further into the fray, passing the front line of troopers and digging his saber into droid after droid. The worry of his men sparked hot in the back of his mind, but this needed to end, now. Later, they could all tell him what a Skywalker he was being. 

The damnable machine forces were pulling back under their assault. Obi-Wan looked forward to the building in front of them. The droids were going around the structure. If they went through, they might be able to cut them off and end this campaign.

As he relayed his orders, his balance seemed to tip to one side. He steadied himself with a flick of the Force. He would never admit it, but he was tired. Tired of all the death and destruction, Obi-Wan strode forward, refusing to wait another second for someone else to die.

The 212th formed up alongside him, separate squads picking off stragglers or tending to the injured. The General’s patience was already running thin by the time they reached the entryway. A couple maintenance lights were on, but otherwise they would be in the dark. No matter; if there was danger, he would feel it. 

The troops marched forward into the structure with Obi-Wan in their midst. He paused to say something to Cody, but whatever Cody’s answer was disappeared before it could reach his ears. No matter; they trusted him, and he trusted them.

Even as his legs started to feel weak, Obi-Wan pressed on. He would not stop until his men could do so. Normally, he accepted that he could draw from the Force. The troops could not. No matter; the vod would press on without help, and so would he.

‘No matter.’ The words clung to the top of his skull. He was too tired to think about them. 

He was too tired to react fast enough when he heard the beep of an explosive charge.

A thunderous roar shook the whole structure above them when the charges were set off. He was seeing nothing but white and hearing nothing but a high pitched squeal. Then a second set of charges went off, explosions barreling down the building’s core until the ground beneath their feet shook. He tried yelling. He tried motioning with his hands. It was pointless. He was tired. He would try the comms.

Of course, the comms had been knocked out. Obi-Wan was off-kilter from the massive explosion. He couldn’t begin to count how many stars he felt snuffed out by the bombs and subsequent shrapnel. Even more disappeared as the building crumbled in on them. Obi-Wan reached up and out with all the strength he could muster, focused on the Force, and pushed back against the falling debris to stop it from crashing down on more troopers. The longer he held the brunt of the weight, the more it burned away his strength. 

Obi-Wan yelled, finally able to hear himself, “Waxer, get everyone out of here!”

The upper levels of duracrete groaned ominously above them, threatening despite their current immobility. Waxer took one look at the situation and nodded, yelling orders to the men. The uninjured troops were grabbing their hurt brothers. Obi-Wan knew they wouldn’t leave anyone behind, so he had to push through. He needed to hold on to every thread of power he had until the last bit was spent. He steeled himself, reminded that the weight of this building was nothing when lives were at stake. His men’s lives. 

Luckily, if the 212th was anything, they were efficient, and most of the troopers had cleared out swiftly except Waxer and Boil. They stood precariously at the exit, Boil watching Waxer and Waxer watching their General. Waxer wasn’t moving fast enough for his vod’s taste and Boil shoved him through the door. 

Where was Cody?

Before Boil could speak, Obi-Wan ordered him, “Go, now Boil, I can’t hold this much longer!”

“Kriffing di’kut, how are you going to get out then?!” Boil felt like he was busting a lung from yelling in all this dust. Their buckets could only filter so much.

“This is an _order_! Go, trooper!” 

Whenever General Kenobi pulled out _that_ tone, any senior trooper knew something bad was coming. Usually, that something bad was a reckless plan that painted a target on Kenobi’s back. Boil was convinced at this point that their General had the biggest martyrdom complex in all of the GAR and he was absolutely determined to get himself killed.

In the end, he knew he wouldn’t win the argument. Boil was brash and curt, but he wasn’t stupid. 

“Don’t get yourself killed, sir!”

As Boil turned on his heel and ran, Obi-Wan felt his knees start to buckle. The pressure in his head was reaching alarming levels, and he knew his only options were to stop what he was doing and risk crushing the troops that were possibly still evacuating, or hold, and turn this into his permanent resting place.

Obi-Wan thought of Anakin, then Ahsoka, their men, his men, his friends, family, and… Cody. He couldn’t die on them, not again, not after the Hardeen mess. He wouldn’t die with all those people counting on him. His work wasn’t done.

Despite the Force seeming to agree with that sentiment, Obi-Wan’s legs were traitors and wobbled like he’d lose them any second. He grinded his teeth, tightening his Force hold on the tons of debris above him. Pieces were falling, he realized, stirring up more dust and blinding him. His lungs were struggling to keep up with the added pressure and dirt.

Obi-Wan thought absentmindedly, “I’ve lived through worse.”

The last of the troopers finally disappeared from his sight. In one motion, Obi-Wan funneled the fading grip he had on the building into his legs and broke for the doorway. He knew he wasn’t fast enough before he even moved, but he made the desperate attempt anyway. Anakin would never let him live it down if it ended up being a building that killed him. 

As a large chunk of duracrete smashed into his back, he had a passing thought that the whole situation was a bit ironic. The famed Negotiator, being crushed by this monument of civilization that he vowed to protect.

He went down, hard, ribs cracking under the pressure before his head slammed into the rock beneath him. He made a last ditch effort to move forward, before a massive durasteel beam crushed his legs, and wrenched a dry, guttural scream out of him. The horrible pain all through his legs was there and gone in an instant, nerves having been crushed and destroyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I use a lot of weather metaphors and similes X’D maybe I should try to mix it up more


End file.
